


Her Grace

by girlyswot



Category: Devil's Cub - Heyer, Georgette Heyer Novels
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-22
Updated: 2009-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-05 00:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlyswot/pseuds/girlyswot





	Her Grace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brutti_ma_buoni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brutti_ma_buoni/gifts).



'Dominic?'

Her husband was standing by the window, staring out into the distance. The perfectly fitted dark blue coat could do nothing to disguise the slump of his shoulders and the hand that rested on the window frame was clenched tight. He gave no sign of having heard her.

Mary gathered her courage into her hands and closed the door behind her. She had already delayed this conversation too long.

'Dominic, I must speak with you.'

He shrugged and her heart broke a little. 'Later.'

Ignoring this, she walked forward, slipping her arms about his waist. Instinctively he laid his hands over hers, but when he spoke his voice was still harsh.

'I said I would speak with you later, Mary.'

She made no reply but laid her head against the fine cloth of his coat. After a moment or two he sighed and she felt some of the tension seep out of him.

She had no idea how long she waited, but eventually he spoke again, more gently.

'What did you wish to say?'

Mary took a long breath, then disentangled herself from her husband. For this conversation, she needed to see his face.

She schooled herself not to display any emotion but still it was a shock to look at him. His eyes, usually so vivid, sparkling with life and energy, had grown dull and tired. His brow was creased with fresh lines and his wide, mobile mouth was stilled. Her hand traced the sharp lines of his cheek and jaw, as if to satisfy herself that her Dominic was still there under the ravages of his grief.

He grasped her wrist firmly and bore her hand away.

'Say what you have come to say.'

'Yes.' Her mouth was unaccountably dry. Mary swallowed. It would not do to show weakness now. 'Dominic, I believe… no, I am quite certain… that I… that you…'

He was frowning. 'Mary?'

She smiled faintly. 'I beg your pardon. I seem to be quite foolishly emotional today.'

A gleam of something lit his eyes and her heart leaped to see it. 'Could you contrive to overcome your folly for long enough to enlighten me, my love?'

Mary took hold of his hand. 'I hope so, my lord. I wanted to inform you that you are shortly, that is to say, in about six months, to become a father.'

He stared at her. Then, abruptly, he dropped her hand and turned on his heel.

'Dominic?' She stepped nimbly around to face him again.

'Six months, you say?' His voice was icily cold.

'It is impossible to be certain.'

'Quite. But you have known of this for some time, I take it?'

Mary bit her lip. She had hoped he might not notice this aspect of her announcement. 'I was not sure, at first.'

'And then?' His eyes bore into her.

'Then your father died,' she replied coolly, though her pulse was racing. She would not let him intimidate her.

'I see.' He began to pace up and down. 'My father died and you thought that I needed to be wrapped up in cotton like a child, is that it? Or perhaps you dared not come near me for fear of violence? Did you think I would not want to know? No, you are not such a fool as that.'

Mary seated herself near the fire and watched as his rage boiled over and vented itself in the hurtful words. It was better that he felt something. The dreadful numbness he had displayed for the last few weeks had been agonising to watch.

'And now?' he continued. 'You choose to tell me now, why? You think this will be a comfort, do you?' His face twisted into a cruel mockery of a smile.

Mary's heart ached for him. She crossed the room to stand before him and reached out her hand to his.

'My love, I…'

'A child!' he spat, wrenching his hand away, as though he could not bear to touch her. As though he felt guilty for finding comfort in her presence. 'You think a mere infant could be any kind of consolation, any kind of replacement for _him_?'

'I think he would have been pleased with the news,' she suggested.

Dominic's eyes darkened and a muscle began to twitch in his cheek. He was close to breaking, thought Mary. For three weeks he had held himself in check, icily civil to everyone who dared to express their sympathy, maintaining his mask even in private. Only when he took his mother in his arms, holding her tightly while she wept, did he show any sign of the emotions Mary knew were tearing him apart.

Not only grief, though that would have been sufficient. When the first servant dared to address him with the ducal title, he had stiffened and swallowed before nodding curtly and dismissing the unfortunate footman. He was afraid, Mary realised. All his life he'd known that his father was there, in control. Although Dominic had chafed against it, nevertheless there had been security in that knowledge. But now the Fifth Duke must stand alone in the place left by the Fourth. And the Fourth Duke's shoes were notoriously hard to fill.

'I dared not presume to know his mind in life; I cannot speak for him in death.' The Duke's voice was cold and hollow again, his anger hidden behind a mask of ice.

'Your mother is pleased,' Mary continued, as though he had not spoken. 'She has been telling me all about your infancy. Especially the time you were sick on Lady Fanny's new gown.'

'Mary…' he began in a warning tone.

'Dominic,' she interrupted. 'We have been patient with you, but you must understand that you are not alone in your grief.'

His eyes glittered. 'Maman.'

'Indeed.' She narrowed her gaze and determined it prudent not to mention her own deep sense of loss. 'If there was one thing your father knew he could trust you to do, it was to have a care for her.'

He shrugged. 'What can I do? I cannot bring him back to her.'

Mary smiled softly. 'No. But you can show her that she has not lost her son as well. She needs you, love. And so do I.'

He gave a harsh laugh. 'You! I have never known a woman so self-reliant. You have managed this household since the day you entered it and I daresay would manage my estates too, given the chance.'

'If that is what you wish.'

His fist slammed against the wall. 'No, it isn't what I damned well wish. I wanted to take all the burdens from your shoulders, Mary, but it seems I am only capable of adding to them.'

'Not adding, love. Sharing.' She took a deep breath and held out her hand. 'Come here.'

Reluctantly, he turned towards her and grasped the proffered hand. Mary put her arm about his waist and settled herself against his chest. 'There,' she said with some satisfaction. 'That's better.'

She could hear his heartbeat steadying and his breath slowing. Eventually he bent his head so that his lips rested on her temple.

And then the tears fell.

Mary dared not move a muscle, except to press a little closer into him.

###

Much later, when she was curled up on the sofa, leaning against him, he kissed her again. 'So, a child?'

She nodded.

'I haven't the least notion how to be a father,' he warned.

'You hadn't the least notion how to be a husband,' Mary pointed out. 'But you're learning.'

He laughed but sobered quickly. 'I haven't the least notion how to be a duke either.'

Mary stroked his cheek. 'You don't have to be him.'

His lips curled. 'No need to tell me that. I couldn't if I tried.'

She squeezed his hand. 'He was very proud of you.'

Dominic made a sound of disbelief, but she was encouraged that he did not argue with her.

A few moments later he murmured, 'We'll call him Justin.' He paused, then continued in something approaching his normal voice, 'And we'll be sure to let Fanny hold him whenever she is wearing a particularly ugly gown.'


End file.
